


Pretty Down to Your Servos

by deathwailart



Category: Original Work
Genre: Androids, Dress Up, F/F, Fluff, Lady Androids, Lady scientists, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:38:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2068518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antonia, the lone scientist in a little dustbowl of a post-apocalypse town, Alana T, her one of a kind android/cyborg/robot girlfriend.</p>
<p>Even one of a kind creations like Alana want to feel as pretty as their human girlfriends sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Down to Your Servos

Above the hum of the generators and the fluorescent strip lights, music echoed through the lab, distorted by hisses and pops of static, more than a little tinny thanks to the salvaged speakers. Old-fashioned music with a twist, almost like swing but with a livelier beat, hints of electronics scattered throughout that they'd found and now kept playing because it kept spirits up. A reminder of before but lacking in words, just music, no lyrics to dwell over. They'd learned their mistakes from other settlements. It was good music to motivate the current occupant of the lab (a glorified term for a series of old storage containers fashioned into one large space with wiring and plumbing) as she struggled to stay awake for the fiftieth straight hour. Antonia Magnus, twenty years old, an omnidisciplinary science by necessity (by her own admission, jack of all trades, master of fuck all in some and fuck _loads_ in others) that sole occupant for the moment. Her hair lay flat against her head, lank and greasy and when she ran a hand through it she winced, wiping her hand on her stained lab coat. She knew better than to touch the face she could see reflected back at her, golden skin waxy with exhaustion, probably just as greasy as her hair. When she could finally drag herself away from the lab she could stay in the shower for as long as the water allowance would run, scrubbing herself clean. She'd braid it, or try one of the fancy updos from the faded magazines again or twist it up so it would dry into long spiralling curls. Wishful thinking, a little daydream she fell into until the magnetic stirrer at her elbow, a chipped mug full of a potent and disgusting concoction almost ready. The delivery was late from one of the larger settlements again and there was no way she'd be able to afford the ramped up prices for the last of the real coffee. If there was any left outside the black market. There were more important things she needed to save money for there anyway. She considered the mug at her elbow, peering down at it, trying not to inhale. It contained a can of some energy drink that might have been out of date with crushed caffeine pills and ginseng and a few capsules of co-enzyme Q10 mixed in with extra sugar. It had kept her going so far even if she doubted the real benefits of some of the ingredients; there was little choice if she wanted to stay awake and even if it was just her belief that the combination worked then so be it.  
  
So _maybe_ it gave her the shakes but exhaustion was doing that anyway. And she was cold. Supposedly she was lucky that the lab was always cool but when she was so tired her teeth wouldn't stop chattering then she couldn't see the benefit.  
  
Sighing, she forced herself off the tall stool, always the one with one leg shorter than the rest because it wobbling kept her alert, flicking the switch off with one hand. With the other she grabbed a pair of small tongs, removed the magnet from the cup and dropped both on the bench before she took a swig. Stale and sickly with a metallic aftertaste, she nonetheless forced it down, little distressed noises of disgust escaping her and she let out an exaggerated blech noise as soon as she was done, sticking out her tongue for good measure. The mug was dropped next to the tongs with enough force to suggest it had perhaps tried to bite her.  
  
"That will do little to help your current situation."  
  
With a smile she turned in the direction of the voice as Alana appeared around a corner, a marvel by all accounts. Alana wasn't her name but she'd picked it years ago, after all that had taken place, when her role as overseer had changed over the long years of living amongst the people she'd been meant to take charge of. Antonia didn't know what she'd gone by before, probably a model number, perhaps some sort of nickname but now she was Alana T and Antonia had given the silliest snorting laugh when she'd moved to this settlement and it had managed to cement their friendship. As it was, Alana stood taller than almost all of the men Antonia had ever known, a little over six foot, smooth lines of gleaming chrome though in places her wiring and circuitry showed, black and gold all over. Instead of a face there was a helmet, the visor black and impenetrable with a working LED display that, at present, showed a frown emoticon. Alana was the only other person who worked in the lab with Antonia ever since Jenkins had had his breakdown six months ago. Antonia hadn't seen him he'd left their makeshift hospital to walk out into the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on his back and whatever he'd thrown into his rucksack. A token search had been organised but no one had been willing to risk too much for a crazy old man; one less mouth to feed and it wasn't as if they really had any way to help him.  
  
"Hey," she greeted, staggering as she tried to make her way over to Alana and oops, there went a stack of precariously piled papers that crashed to the floor. "Blood rushed to my head."  
  
"You have been awake for fifty hours, your reflexes and reaction times are poor, equivalent to those of an intoxicated person. Your sugar intake at this point is primarily from refined sugar and you are likely close to consuming too much caffeine – are you experiencing heart palpitations or symptoms consistent with an overdose?" The distinctive flanging quality of Alana's voice didn't lend itself to tone but Antonia knew when she was concerned, even without glancing over at the emoticons or words or whatever else Alana flashed on her helmet visor.  
  
"I promise, I'm almost done and then you can hold me up in the shower so I don't get cuts and bruises again," she replied quickly, performing a rather risky hop-skip move to clear the papers and get her closer to Alana, grabbing hold of her arms to keep herself upright, "then I can sleep for as many hours as possible. Pinkie promise." Dutifully, Alana linked a pinkie and bent to press her cool helmet against Antonia's forehead, black punctuated with pixellated lines of pink and red light all she could see.  
  
"I keep a record of the number of promises you fail to keep," Alana replied and Antonia would be offended but there was that little flicker in her voice, a glitch really, a giveaway that she was teasing.  
  
"I make it up to you." She paused for a moment when there was no answer from Alana, leaning back to see more than just the fading lights on her helmet. "What?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"I am functioning at optimal capacity."  
  
Frowning, she took a few steps back, folding her arms as Alana began to reorganise the folders she'd dropped. "Seriously, are you okay? Human okay. Not your CPU and system and all that, you just seem...off?"  
  
"It's nothing."  
  
Antonia stared, watching Alana's chrome hands straighten the files, attempting smooth out a ragged corner that kept getting folded over whenever Antonia grabbed the stack and moved them from place to place as she worked.  
  
"C'mon, what's up Alana?"  
  
"I said it's no-" Alana broke off suddenly as her voice glitched again, jumping up several octaves and warbling distressingly, like old auto-tune music.  
  
"Aha!" Antonia shouted, grabbing Alana by the hands and pulling her away from anything that might be a useful distraction for her. "Tell me."  
  
"It's..." There was a high whirring sound, a tell-tale sign of a CPU going into overdrive as she tried to come up with some sort of excuse. Lines of red and pink pixels flashed distressingly, another line going down the left side in blues and whites, something Antonia programmed herself when Alana asked her to so she could sweat.  
  
"Baby," Antonia tried, linking their fingers as she started to swaying, swinging their hands in time.  
  
"I still don't understand the comparison to an infant."  
  
"Yes you do, you were programmed to understand it, stop changing the subject."  
  
Alana sighed and shifted her weight on her feet. "Don't you ever want someone like you?"  
  
"Like me how? I mean there's just me here now after Jenkins."  
  
"Not in your capacity in this lab, I meant..." If Alana had lips, Antonia was sure she'd be biting them by now as she raised herself onto her toes and bounced up and down, a habit she'd picked up around numerous children. "In a girlfriend."  
  
"What? Is this about the drifter?" It had been a week ago when someone had blown into their little settlement, trading precious parts and pieces, stupidly tall, dark and handsome, all leather jacket and dreadlocks tossed over one shoulder, making Antonia giggle and snort. It wasn't often that new faces appeared, especially attractive women and she'd been caught up in being humoured by someone who wanted to know what she was working on as she carefully logged each thing she bought. Alana had caught her and had gone through every shade of green then red, ignoring Antonia until she'd finally almost exploded with it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, it won't-" She found herself cut off suddenly as Alana let go of one of Antonia's hands to press a gleaming finger to her lips.  
  
It was the signal that she needed a moment without human interruptions and so Antonia waited, starting to bounce herself as her heart threatened to climb up her throat.  
  
Another little sigh and Alana's head dropped. "She was like you. Skin. Flesh and blood. Look at me." Normally Antonia would joke and thank her for the invitation but today was different. Alana was nervous and awkward in a way she never was to the point Antonia had to look away from her face when the constant flashes started to make her nauseous.  "Metal. Wires. Processors."  
  
"Alana-"  
  
But Alana was letting go and moving away to start tidying up, not looking up even when Antonia ran a hand up her back and over exposed wiring and up to a smooth shoulder to squeeze. "You should shower. Take in nourishment. Rest."  
  
"But-"  
  
Alana's face went blank as she peeked over her shoulder and sighing, she scuffed her way out of the lab and over to the block that housed the showers, stopping off to grab her towel and the soap, scentless but it worked on your body and your hair and it was easy enough to make out here. She turned on the water, all of it recycled and warmed only by the sun but the cold woke her up even as it irritated her and she scrubbed all the harder, skin red and blotchy by the time she was done and wrapped in her towel. She braided her hair slowly so it would fall in loose waves once it was dried. She didn't care about the dust that would coat her feet when she padded barefoot over to the little shack she lived in with Alana because there was dust everywhere and on everything and even when you covered up every little nook or cranny, it still managed to get in. She'd wipe it off as soon as she was dry anyway. She had more important things to worry about after all and being here was just a reminder of that. Their little home wasn't really much and it was mostly Antonia's things that she had initially tried to keep to what they'd designated as her side of everything but she'd never quite learned to pick up after herself; an empty mug here, a notebook stacked on top of a tray of cables, random items of clothing left wherever she'd removed or thrown them. Like her dirty clothes that she'd have to go wash soon. Her stomach growled and she sighed, drying herself off as she peeked into the wardrobe for clean clothes, settling on an A-line dress, dark blue with a floral pattern, shoving her feet into a pair of old brown leather boots.  
  
It was on the way out again that she paused, catching sight of herself before she grinned, grabbing a notebook and pen as she raced out of the door, letting it bang shut behind her.

* * *

  
  
"When can I re-engage my optics?"  
  
"Just—"  
  
"What are you doing?" Alana's voice climbed in surprise as Antonia continued her work, glad that she'd taken the time to work on the project. Her fingers hurt and she was more exhausted than usual from juggling her job and the extra project as well as all the other work that everyone tended to dump in the lap of the resident scientist, as well as trying to keep a secret from someone who was so good at picking up anything out of the ordinary. And Antonia Magnus had never been very good at keeping secrets.  
  
"Ssh, just give me a moment here. Don't you trust me?"  
  
"I do," Alana agreed and Antonia pressed a smacking kiss against her cheek. "Almost...almost...Right!"  
  
Hopping back, she covered her mouth with a hand as Alana let out a little chime as she switched her eyes back on then gasped as she caught sight of herself in the mirror that had been set up in the lab because it had the best lighting to show off what Antonia had been working on. Instead of her metal and wires being exposed, a long black and gold maxi dress – anything Antonia owned already would have been far too short to suit Alana – clung to her frame. The bottom half plain, not quite hanging evenly all the way round now that Antonia looked a little more closely, the top half coming from an old top she'd traded for months ago, golden embroidery with little black beads sewn into it. From behind Alana she could see the rapid flickering between different displays on the visor, the little noises let out that they'd likened to the vocal equivalent of a keysmash.  
  
"Well?" Antonia's own voice wavered uncertainly as she wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt, taking a few steps closer. "Do you like?" She just about managed the words when suddenly Alana's arms were holding her tight, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around.  
  
"I love it! Look at me!" She set Antonia down and twirled on the spot until Antonia felt dizzy enough that she staggered to sit on a stool, laughing.  
  
"Just so you know, I love you. I love all your parts and pieces and your glitchy voice and all the whirring and the way you overheat when you're embarrassing and how you laugh when I poke the right wires and circuitry but I get it. I think. I'll learn to sew if you want to look pretty like this but," she hopped to her feet and took Alana's hands, leaning up to plant a kiss on the visor that Alana matched with a pair of pixellated lips, "you are always going to be the most wonderful and the loveliest, inside and out."  
  
Alana made another glitching noise with a frantic burst of screeching that sounded like an ancient dial-up modem.  
  
"You're the best girlfriend," she muttered, still sounding embarrassed and obviously trying to make sure her voice stayed even.  
  
"No, you are," Antonia countered, moving to grab a folder.  
  
"I can provide evidence."  
  
"Nope, human judgement wins the day for once. Human girlfriend one, robot girlfriend zero."  
  
Silence fell as she sat down to glance over her notes, thinking that Alana had decided to humour her.  
  
"I'm still winning," Alana finally piped up and Antonia wadded up a piece of paper and threw it at her head, missing her by a mile.

**Author's Note:**

> Shamelessly inspired by a tumblr post about a robot girlfriend wanting to get dressed up all pretty like her human girlfriend even though the human girlfriend loves all her metal and wires and circuits. I was meant to write this for femslash February but life really hit me hard and I only just got back to it today. Title adapted from Pretty Down to Your Bones because lame puns are my jam.


End file.
